


Maybe One Day They Will Mean Something

by wasp



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Sixth Form!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasp/pseuds/wasp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seeing Liam pressed up against Louis, soft, satisfied smile lighting up his face, does pretty much make Zayn want to crawl into a hole and stay there for a while but this is much much worse. He prefers Liam fussing over Louis to see him biting his lips until they’ve about to burst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe One Day They Will Mean Something

“You’re staring,” Zayn says, putting his bag on the floor and sitting down heavily besides Liam. When Liam doesn’t respond, Zayn looks pointedly at Louis then back at Liam. “You’re drooling, Payne,” he says, rolling his eyes, irritated for a reason and not liking or acknowledging said reason.

“Huh? What?” Liam says, snapping out of whatever daydream he had been weaving. He looks up at Zayn then his eyes flick back to Louis for a second, his gaze practically lingering on the stupid fucker’s movements before coming back to rest on Zayn.

Zayn reaches over and pushes Liam’s chin up, shutting his mouth with a click. He lets the skin of his hand rest warm against Liam’s face for another second longer before he drops his hand and turns to the front.

Louis turns over at the exact time, Harry’s head stuffed under his arm, his face lit up with that familiar vivid smile. “Harry has to be my bitch for the rest of the day because he just lost the match,” Louis informs them.

Harry struggles out from the depths of Louis’ sweater, his curls wild and in frenzy. “What _match?”_ but he doesn’t ague any longer, just punches at Louis’ arm and tries to grab his head.

“Help, somebody help me! He’s turned rogue, I don’t know what he’s capable of – Liam! You won’t forsake me, will you?” Louis shouts out, trying to untangle himself from a wildly laughing Harry, reaching for Liam.

Zayn turns his head to catch Liam’s besotted smile, the way his eyes kind of glaze over as he reaches for Louis on principle. Of course Louis doesn’t take his hand, he does this every day with Harry, he doesn’t _really_ need help. Louis just tends to be a horrible flirt for most of the time and Liam’s the kind of boy who would do anything for him. Zayn doesn’t say anything, just stares straight ahead and tries to squash down the feelings of resentment bubbling to the surface over something his mate has no control over.

He doesn’t need to concentrate too hard as the door slams open and their teacher, Mrs Jameson, walks in, calm, poised and looking utterly dangerous.

“Styles, let go of Tomlinson,” she says, not even looking up from the roll.

Harry does let go of Louis and they both fall back into their seats, breathless from laughter. Zayn chances another glance at Liam and grits his teeth at the fool. He’s still looking at the back of Louis’ head, poorly disguised hearts in his eyes. It’s not like Zayn’s angry at Liam, he’s just feeling restless and tense, ready to lash out at just about anybody.

“We have a new student today,” Mrs Jameson says and the best thing about her is: she looks like she goes no fucks most of the time except when it _really_ matters. “Niall Horan? Just transferred from Ireland?” she peers around the classroom with a cool gaze. They fix firmly on a bottle-blond kid who’s sitting near the back, clearly trying to shrink into himself. “Care to introduce yourself, Horan?” she says, glancing pointedly at the boy then to the front of the class.

“Do I have to?” he asks, his accent lilting and slipping in through his words.

Mrs Jameson shrugs in a way that clearly says ‘I don’t give a shit’ and says, “Today we’re going to be covering a significant amount of material so if you fall asleep, so help me god, don’t expect to get extra help from me.”

Zayn looks back at Niall who’s gone all red in the face, looking miserable. The smile slips onto his face almost accidentally when he catches his eye. Zayn tips a finger towards him in an imitation of a wave. Niall does the self-conscious look around to make sure Zayn’s actually waving at him and not at someone else. With quirked eyebrows, he turns back to Zayn, relatively assured it _was_ directed at him but Zayn’s already turned back to the front, watching the line of Harry’s shoulder quiver as he muffles his laughter at whatever Louis’ done now, a small frown etched onto his face.

~

Thankfully, Zayn is relatively left alone for the next period. The boys are his best friends, there’s no doubt about that, but he’s not feeling all that entertaining today and every once in a while, Zayn needs some time to himself so they don’t drain the life out of him. Harry settles into the seat next to him for History but Zayn knows he’s going to be out like a light in about five minutes.

“Heya,” Niall says, sitting across Zayn with, looking rather red and embarrassed.

Zayn nods at him, raising his eyebrows a little bit. He’s been told he could be a cold bitch sometimes. He’s not denying it. However the way Niall’s sitting, hunched in on himself a little, clearly not fitting into the environment of their class makes Zayn feel like a terrible person in principle.

“Why’d you move from Ireland?” Zayn asks, ignoring Harry as he slumps against Zayn. Their history teacher, Mr Burming doesn’t pay them any mind, too old and lazy to do anything but read from his notes.

“My dad’s job,” Niall says simply, he breathes out a laugh and says, “Most people usually start off with a name, y’know.”

“I’m Zayn and this sack of potatoes is Harry,” Zayn says quirking a smile at him.

Niall rips off a strip of paper from his book and scrunches up into a small ball. He shares a look with Zayn before aiming it at Harry’s open mouth. He gets it right in his mouth on the first go causing Harry to snort. He doesn’t wake up and continues snoring as Niall balls up another piece of paper. Zayn smiles at the new kid.

~

Liam knows Louis hasn’t done his Spanish homework, it’s kind of a given if you knew Louis long enough. Liam had, of course, finished his homework and practised the listening bit for the test the day after and then had time to help Harry with his History afterwards. It was the downside of living in the same neighbourhood area with his friends; they all lived in walking/bus distance so Liam had no excuse in helping out his friends. Not that he helping the boys with their homework was a chore or anything; Liam still didn’t understand the fact that they _liked_ him to begin with.

“HOLA, MI AMIGO!” Louis shouts as he enters the classroom, spreading his arms wide and walking towards Liam.

Liam smiles at the idiot, wincing as Louis throws his bag at him and collapses into the seat next to him. He’s drawn a fake moustache onto his face with a sharpie – like he does every Tuesday afternoon – and he’s shouting all the Spanish words he knows as fast as he can.

“Y’know, I think that might be appropriating their culture,” Liam says, jabbing at Louis’ face with a finger.

Louis grabs his finger and makes a face. He puts on a squeaky voice that, as Liam has thoroughly learnt, is supposed to represent his voice and says, “I’m Liam Payne and I use big words like appropriating so I can feel superior with my super fat brain.”

“Shut up,” Liam says, laughing as Louis makes smooch noises, supposedly representing what a kiss-arse Liam is with the teachers, before he’s trying to land smacking kisses on Liam’s face.

Liam thinks he’s in love with Louis. He’s not sure, he’s never actually been in love before but he does really want to make out with him. It’s hard not to be in love with Louis, he’s blinding like the sun and magnetic all at once – everyone’s drawn to him and Liam’s not an exception. He likes the way Louis’ eyes crinkle in the corners when he laughs and how he throws his head back, unashamed of his joy. He’s inhibited and _happy_ and he’s everything Liam wishes he was. All the qualities that Liam wishes he had for himself. It’s harder to not fall in love with Louis, if you think about it.

Liam sighs to himself as Louis drapes his arm over his shoulders, shooting fake pistols at the teacher when she calls out his name. Liam’s realistic – or as Harry put it, pessimistic, cynical and a kill-joy – and knows he would never be able to do anything about this crush. He also knows Louis wouldn’t like him back for all the money in the world because he was _Louis_ and completely unapologetic about it.

For now, Liam’s happy to shift so he’s pressed up along Louis’ side, staring at the tip of Louis’ toms where it’s starting to fray from the strain of his toe to distract him from anything else.

~

When Zayn introduces Niall to the group in the cafeteria, Niall meets them head-on, blue eyes clear and direct. He’s not feeling as miserable as he was in the morning. Being forced to go to a new school where _everything_ is different after a move like that hasn’t been the highlight of his life so far. He’s kind of really fucking pissed off at his parents, actually.

“Hiya lads,” Niall says, sitting down at the table.

Louis high-fives him immediately and says, “Would you like an Irish potato?” He stabs at the bit of potato on his plate and waves it around.

Niall doesn’t miss a beat and says, “No, but your mum had some in her last night.”

Harry’s cackle can be heard from across the cafeteria as he thumps Niall on the back and shoves up to let him sit down.

Maybe it wasn’t going to be as bad as he thought.

~

After that, it’s pretty much given that Niall will be there as often as the other boys. It’s like they don’t remember what it was like before Niall had transferred from Ireland and slotted into their group. Overall, Zayn’s not regretting at waving at the new kid during roll call. Watching Louis draped all over Niall, both laughing into each other’s jumpers, Zayn sigh.

The only problem is: Louis flirts with everyone; he may or may not know that his behaviour may be considered flirting, but the truth of the matter is – he’s just a huge flirt.

This may have been one of the reasons that Zayn hadn’t realised he actually _liked_ a girl until they were walking up to the table with their hands clasped together, both smiling brilliantly at them.

“Calder, you can do so much better,” Zayn says, raising his eyebrows at her.

She blushes prettily and laughs a little, turning to look at Louis with huge brown eyes. Louis flips Zayn off and pulls her into a seat in the common room, practically on top of each other. He has eyes for no-one but Eleanor, speaking to her softly with his face tilted down, practically glowing.

Zayn can’t help but think of Liam then and tries to unclench his fists. Louis is oblivious about the effect he has on people – or he just doesn’t care. Zayn’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt. Louis doesn’t know that Liam’s half in love with him because _everyone_ ’s in love with Louis. If Louis knew maybe he would stop acting like he does with Liam, like he’s leading him on and Zayn hates that he doesn’t know for sure if he would. Louis is one of his best mates but he loves attention, he thrives on it and who wouldn’t want Liam’s undivided attention 24/7?

Niall, Liam and Harry arrives loudly, Harry with his arms thrown around Niall whose red in the face from giggling. Liam sits down next to Zayn at the desk with a soft, “Alright?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says, smiling at him. The smile drops as soon as Liam’s eyes do their routine roam around the room for Louis.

Zayn stares at how the veins in Liam’s forearm stand to attention when he clenches his fists against the desk, feels how his shoulders tense and his arms lock. Zayn wants to smash his head against the desk, somehow stop Liam from seeing Louis and Eleanor, stop Louis and Eleanor giggling quietly together in the corner, and just stop Liam’s resolve shatter with every passing second.

“I-is that Eleanor?” Liam asks, not dropping his gaze.

“Look, mate, I know -.” Zayn starts but he stops all too soon, can’t stand to look at Liam’s face for too long when he’s looking like _that_.

Eleanor is a lovely girl, she has a crazy sense of humour and she’s a bit cheeky and mischievous in spontaneous outbursts and all Zayn wants to do is get her out of the room. Seeing Liam pressed up against Louis, soft, satisfied smile lighting up his face, does pretty much make Zayn want to crawl into a hole and stay there for a while but this is much _much_ worse. He prefers Liam fussing over Louis to see him biting his lips until they’ve about to burst.

“Fina- _fucking_ -lly,” Harry says, breathing out a laugh, “He’s been pining over her for weeks.”

Zayn hears Liam swallow hard and snaps his head to glare at Harry. Harry shrugs at him, eyes wide and innocent. Zayn tries not to sigh again; he’s been doing that all too much lately.

“I’ve, uh, left my books in the classroom. I’ll be right back,” Liam says, getting up and hurrying out of the common room before anyone can point out that his books are right there on the table.

Harry wanders off to go talk to a group of girls near the entrance soon after. Zayn grabs Liam’s textbooks and shoves them in his bag, he’ll return them tonight. Niall stares at Zayn with a little twitch of his eyebrows and says, “Aye, it’s like that then?”

The way Niall’s looking at Zayn makes him feel way too stripped raw for his liking. Idiot plays dumb when he sees fucking everything. Zayn shrugs and Niall just nods, not judging, not commenting, he’s just sitting there with a contemplative look on his face.

“Keep it to yourself, yeah?” Zayn says, quieter than he’d intended and Niall nods again.

He fits in _fine_.

~

Zayn doesn’t see Liam for the rest of the time and comes to the conclusion he’s actually buggered off and gone home. Liam _never_ jigs, it’s like a definitive like the fact he only has one kidney and only gets drunk in the direst circumstances. Zayn doesn’t even stop off at his home when school finishes, bypasses his sister playing in the front yard with a wave before walking up the street and into Liam’s house.

“Afternoon, dear,” Liam’s mum says, smiling at him. “Liam’s been feeling sick, actually, but you can pop in and check up on him. Take his soup up, will you dear?”

Zayn greets her, smiling and takes the hot bowl off her hands. He climbs the stairs two at a time, making sure not to spill any of the soup onto his hands.

He knocks on the door, remembers vividly when they were fifteen and he’d burst in on Liam wanking. Liam hadn’t been able to look him in the eye for _hours_.

“Open up, Payne. I come bearing the best chicken soup on earth,” Zayn says, “It’s burning my fingers you twat!”

The door swings up and Liam’s standing there, his hair all messy and his eyes suspiciously red. Zayn squints at him. He hands him the soup and closes the door behind him.

“I had a tummy bug,” Liam says, setting the soup down on his desk and sitting at his desk.

Zayn sprawls naturally on his bed, closing his eyes. He rolls his eyes, realises its useless when his eyes are actually closed and opens them again to stare at Liam.

“Yeah, I’ve known you since you used to piss your pants,” Zayn says, “I think I know your stomach-ache-face to your I’m-in-love-with-one-of-my-best-friend’s-face.”

Liam turns slowly in his chair, soup spoon abandoned on the desk. His mouth’s slightly open, eyes wide the way it goes when he’s slightly too shocked to be able to think on his feet. It doesn’t last though, it’s hard to shock Liam speechless for too long, and he’s trying to speak again.

“Ugh, Liam, I used to walk around in my underwear with you so people wouldn’t make fun when you wet your trousers – I _fucking know you_ ,” Zayn says, gulping down the weird choked up feeling he gets in his throat. “I know you’re in love with Louis.”

“I am- what,” Liam says and flushes. Zayn tries not to think it becomes him or anything as stupid as that. “I’m not in love with – oh for fuck’s sakes, is it that obvious?”

Zayn feels his chest constrict, his stomach dropping but he doesn’t let it show. Just nods against Liam’s pillow, smelling the familiar scent of his shampoo.

“Oh god, what am I going to do?” Liam asks, hiding his face in his hands.

“Mate, have you been crying?” Zayn asks, sitting up to peer at his face, peeling his hands away.

“No!” Liam says too quickly but Zayn doesn’t push it. He sighs, Liam’s wrists still in his hands, his pulse fluttering under his thumb.

“Okay, well, we’ll work this out. It’s going to be fine. I’ll help you … woo him or whatever,” Zayn says, looking just past Liam’s shoulder to distract himself from what he’s saying.

“You’ll what?” Liam asks, looking up at Zayn with a snap of his neck.

“Yeah, you heard me, get into his pants or whatever gay shit you want to do with him,” Zayn says, wincing ever so slightly.

When he looks up again, Liam’s got an odd look on his face, a small smile on his face. He shrugs and then nods, “Well. If you’re comfortable with that.”

Zayn throws his pillow at his face. Like there is a possibility he would _ever_ not help _Liam_.

~

Afterwards, Liam is horribly embarrassed that he had to go _home_ after seeing Eleanor and Louis together. He doesn’t think anyone would ever let him live it down but surprisingly, Zayn doesn’t push it. Eleanor isn’t in most of Liam’s classes so he still as Louis all to himself during Spanish. Liam never really knew when to give up.

It doesn’t mean he can avoid them forever. They’re practically attached at the hip and he drags her along to sit with them during break and Liam wants to close his eyes for a bit because he’s so jealous at the way they look at each other or they way they can thread their fingers together in public and get applauded when he spontaneously kisses her in the middle of the cafeteria. Then Zayn looks at him, eyes wide and understanding and nods and Liam feels like he can breathe a little better. It’s a temporary solution but Liam’s willing to deal with it.

After a couple of weeks of useless pondering Niall comes up with a suggestion while they’re trying to complete their homework in Liam’s room. Well, Niall and Zayn are playing on the X-box and Liam’s the only one with a pen in his hand but that’s pretty much the way things go around here.

Liam hadn’t even said anything, just sat there at the desk, clutching at his pen so hard his knuckles turned white as he remembered the way Louis dipped Eleanor in the middle of the class and kissed her softly. He’s biting down on his lip and almost bites it off when Niall speaks.

“Why don’t you make him jealous?” Niall asks, throwing his controller on the bed and sitting up against Zayn.

“Shit,” Liam says, swiping his tongue over the blood on his split lip. “ _What_?” he asks, praying that he’d misheard Niall. Liam chances a glance at Zayn who’s eyes are kind of glazed over, distracted by something. Liam quirks an eyebrow at him and he snaps out of it – he knows Zayn wouldn’t ever tell any of Liam’s secret, that’s why they’re such good friends.

“Louis,” Niall says as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Snog some other bloke to see if you get a reaction out of him.”

“I don’t – What are you talking about?” Liam asks, trying to come off as blindly obtuse.

Niall just stares at him, unimpressed with a little downturn of his mouth.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Zayn says, dropping his controller as well to look at up Liam.

“Have you both gone mad?” Liam asks, voice nearing hysterical levels of highness. “Who told you – it’s not _that_ obvious, is it?” he asks, panicking.

“Um,” Niall says and Zayn elbows him in the side. “No, but really, or you could make it really obvious you’ve been getting laid or something,” Niall says, shrugging. “Dunno, better than you having an aneurysm over your Spanish homework, mate.”

Niall stretches a hand forward blindly, his attention focused on the game again, and gropes around in the air for a biscuit.

“You ate the last one while I was stuffing your head inside the evil fortress of doom,” Zayn says, still maintain eye-contact with Liam.

“I’m going to get some more,” Niall says, grabbing the empty plate and walking out of the room before they could do much else. The door shuts behind him with a small click.

The silence isn’t awkward but it’s not completely comfortable either. Liam scratches the side of his neck, feeling weirdly self-conscious in front of his best mate. He looks down, gaze flicking down to Zayn’s trainers before they flick up again.

“Do you think it’s a good idea, then?” he finally asks, eyebrows drawn up in earnest.

Zayn doesn’t say anything for a moment before he nods. “Yeah, might work. I did say I’d help you _woo_ him.”

“We’ve talked about this, nobody uses the word _woo_ anymore,” Liam says, laughing breathlessly. They haven’t actually talked about this; they haven’t talked about any woo-ing after their first conversation a couple of weeks ago.

“Well, do you want me to help you out or not?” Zayn says, half-reaching for his controller as if he’s going to go back to the game.

Weirdly, Liam feels a little jumpy, itching out of his skin, his heart beating up a storm. He just nods though with a grim set of his mouth and moves forward. When did his hands and feet grow so big? He reaches the bed in what seems to be an inordinate amount of time and looks down at Zayn.

Zayn pets the bed next to him, calm and composed. Liam feels a little bit better. At least one of them knows what they’re doing.

“I can’t give you love-bites if you’re standing all the way up there,” Zayn says.

Liam feels his cheeks heat up and _hates_ himself. God, if only his body ever listened to him. He sits down anyway, trying to pass off embarrassment with bravado.

“I don’t know how – What am I-.” Liam stumbles over his words.

He’s never kissed a boy before – he’s never kissed _anyone_ before let alone have one give him _love bites_. He stills and tells himself he’s so nervous because this could go horribly wrong and hopefully Niall stays out long enough for this to work.

“Relax,” Zayn says, looking the picture perfect definition of the word. Of course he is. He’s kissed a hundreds of girls, given hundreds of love-bites. “Look, just lie back and think of Louis or something.”

Liam nods and lays back down on the bed and watches as Zayn looms over him, laying next to him on his stomach like they’ve done a million times. He can feel Zayn’s breath over his jaw line and at the sensitive skin of his neck and shudders.

Zayn reaches out, supported on his elbows so he’s not completely crushing Liam, and traces Liam’s birthmark with wide eyes. He tilts Liam’s head slightly to the side and with one reassuring glance at Liam’s face, moves his lips over his skin and just stays like that for a moment. He presses little kisses against the line of his jaw before moving down his Adam’s apple and kissing him with an open mouth, hot slide of tongue on skin. Liam gasps loudly - he doesn’t know what he was expecting but when Zayn _sucks_ with a little moan against his wet skin heat - floods his belly. Zayn has a hand in his hair, tilting his head to the side as he continues to press his open lips against his neck, sucking and biting against his collarbone before moving up to make sure he leaves a visible mark.

When he pulls away, Liam struggles to open his eyes. He’s still blushing furiously, brown eyes darkened with something he doesn’t want to identify right now. Zayn smiles at him a little bit and pulls away, sitting up on the bed. Liam clambers up afterwards, dazed and still reeling.

“That should do it,” Zayn says, reaching forward to trace a finger across the reddened skin. Liam flinches away before he can help himself and watches the little traces of a frown appear on Zayn’s face.

“Lads, look-ey here,” Niall says, bursting through the door with a plate of jam-filled donuts. He doesn’t seem to notice, or chooses not to comment, on the weird tension filling the room, curling around the corners and making it hard to draw breath, and sets the plate down on the bed.

He jams a donut into his mouth and bites down, red squirting everywhere.

“Oh my god, Niall,” Zayn says, rubbing at his eyes where the jam has unfortunately squirted onto. “ _Why_ ,” he asks, pushing at Niall’s face as Niall hovers, laughing his head off and trying to help at the same time.

Liam relaxes against the wall and lets his shoulders come back down from his ears. Niall and Zayn are messing around again, shoving at each other before picking up the controllers. Liam moves slowly, still slightly dazed, and moves back to his seat and picks up his pen again. He can’t concentrate for the rest of the hour, can’t get his hand to write any words to paper and just stares dumbly at the blue lines instead.

When Zayn and Niall leave, Niall lags behind and says, “Nice markings.” And Liam blushes.

~

Liam has to hide the love-bites from his mum the next morning by wrapping himself in a scarf during breakfast. He quickly shoves it in his bag on the way to school, self-conscious about it enough to pull his collar up a little. Zayn meets him from outside his house and joins him as they walk to the bus station, their usual comfortable silence after their greeting.

It doesn’t take long for Louis to notice- he’s usually looking for something to take the piss out of Perfect Prefect Liam.

“What have you been up to you _slag_?” Louis asks, jumping up from where he’s been slumped over Niall. Eleanor doesn’t catch the same bus in the mornings and Liam can’t help but grin bashfully, trying to hide the love bites because he _knows_ Louis isn’t going to let this go.

“None of your business,” Liam says primly, knowing exactly how to wind him up. Zayn doesn’t say anything besides him just snorts and looks out the window after he plugs his earphones in.

“Have you been getting busy with someone? Is it _Dani_?” Louis demands. He climbs over Niall to get a closer look. He yanks Liam’s collar down and stares, flicking a finger against his pulse point.

Danielle turns from her seat at the front when her name is called. Liam makes an apologetic face and she smiles shyly at him before she turns around. Liam has no idea what that’s about but she’s probably just being nice because she understands what it likes to be surrounded by idiots half the time.

“You wanton harlot,” Louis says, shaking his head and dropping back into his seat.

Liam doesn’t know how he feels. He’d wanted Louis to be jealous and he doesn’t really seem to be – the weird thing is - Liam doesn’t really feel all that disappointed.

~

The next few weeks seem to pass in a blur. Their exams are coming up and Liam spends time studying with Zayn and playing footie after school with the boys as usual. Eleanor and Louis continue to date and become more sickening with each passing day. Harry’s snogging some girl in the corner every break time per usual and it feels like Niall’s presence has been constant in their little group.

Liam’s been too busy with exams to do any more _wooing_ and whenever Zayn brings up the subject, Liam shuts it down just as fast. He still stares at Louis and sits with him in Spanish class and make fun of the way he says ‘sacapuntas’ but … but, he doesn’t know if something’s changed or if it is different at all.

Until they’re at a party and Louis has a fight with Eleanor in the bathroom and spends the next hour getting truly fucking wasted. Liam, as usual, isn’t drinking, just keeping an eye out for his friends and just revelling in the knowledge he is the worst teenager in existence. He even has a book tucked into the pocket of his jacket but he knows better than to whip that shit out just anywhere. Zayn usually stays with him, drinking and smoking but usually not getting too fucked to actually keep Liam company. Zayn’s skipped out on the party this night though, babysitting his sisters for his mum. Liam would’ve accompanied him but Louis and Harry _insisted_ somebody has to get them home.

So Liam’s sitting on the couch, watching with half-hearted amusement as couples climb over each other and people dance and drink and be teenagers. He sips at his soda, nodding every once and again to a familiar face, groaning into his cup when two girls confront Harry about something. However, that seems to end up well with the three of them disappearing upstairs soon after.

Louis pretty much falls into the seat next to him, limbs sprawling everywhere. He slumps against Liam, his head resting on his shoulder.

“You alright, mate?” Liam asks, peering down at Louis with a smile.

“S’aaaaaall good Payne!” Louis shouts enthusiastically.

Liam raises an eyebrow. Liam had seen Eleanor leave in tears. The thought of her crying doesn’t make him feel good though and he lets out a breath of relief that he’s still a decent human being. Even if Louis is drunk out of his mind, there seems to be something at the corner of his mouths and eyes that showcase how ‘good’ he really is.

“Whatever you say,” Liam says and pats Louis on the chest with a flat palm.

Louis giggles for no reason and lolls his head against the bones in Liam’s shoulder. “Why do you look s’friggin sad all the time?” Louis asks, leaning back to get a proper glance at Liam’s face.

“I wasn’t aware I did,” Liam replies, surprised that Louis’ attempting to be observant at this state.

“I’ve seen ya watching moi,” Louis says, poking him in the chest. “S’alright,” he says quickly when Liam’s eyes widen and he freezes up against him, “Cheer up!” Then Louis leans over and kisses Liam sloppily, grinning into it.

Liam kisses him back because _how long has he wanted to do this for_ and it’s fucking _Louis_. He pulls away though when his brain informs him that yes, this is his best friend who is in love with someone else, he’s also too fucked to think properly and he’d just admitted that he was aware of Liam’s crush on him.

“Uh- shit, I-I think you should go to sleep,” Liam says, panicking, looking around for somebody to help him out – Zayn or-

“Is he alright?” Niall asks, popping out of nowhere, his face very red from the pints he’s been chugging like a champion.

Louis chooses this time to become completely boneless against Liam, dead to the world.

“I think we should get him home,” Liam says, throwing Louis’ lifeless arm around his neck.

“I’ll get Harry,” Niall says and disappears into the crowd.

Liam stares side-ways at Louis and feels choked up and he doesn’t know _why_. He’d just kissed the guy he’d been crushing on for _forever_ and all he wants to do is go home. But he’s not thinking of his mum or his room or his bed. His thoughts stray to the dark-skinned boy playing with his little sister instead of going out with his friends to get fucked off his face.

~

Louis honestly doesn’t know how he got home last night. He wakes up in Harry’s room, wrapped around him with a shitload of curls in his mouth. He splutters then groans as the bed rocks around him. He stills immediately. He kind of wants to die right now.

“Haz?” he asks, groping blindingly without moving his head.

“Mm, shh,” Harry says, patting Louis’ chest without opening his eyes, his head pillowed on his shoulder.

“I need to puke,” Louis says with a raspy throat, wincing at how it sounds. Harry moves a lot more quickly after that, grabbing a handy bucket from under the bed and shoving it at Louis.

Louis manages to get all of it into the bucket, feeling his throat burn once again as he spews out the contents of his stomach. He feels like _shit_ and he has a feeling he’s done something _bad_. Then he remembers Eleanor and that horrible fight in the bathroom about something so trivial and – he vomits again.

“That is rank,” Harry says, thumping Louis on the back.

“Not really helping, tosser,” Louis says, grateful anyway. “I need to take a shower. Is your mum awake yet? Any chance of meeting her in the hallway fresh from the shower?”

Harry flicks the back of his neck and tosses him a towel.

Louis grabs the bucket and heads off to the toilet. He thinks the fight with Eleanor wasn’t the only shit he’s pulled last night. Maybe it’ll come to him when he’s scrubbing his face in the shower, trying to get the smell of alcohol out of his pores.

It’s only after he’s eaten something that seems to settle his stomach and changed into Harry’s clothes he feels like a functioning human being. He’s planning to spend the Saturday at Harry’s anyway, playing video games and trying not to think about Eleanor. He cuddles up with Harry in his bed and is about to ask him what he did last night that’s making him feel like shit when the door to his bedroom slams open and Zayn strides in.

“Malik!” Louis says enthusiastically, throwing his arms in the air and grinning at him. He knows almost immediately something’s not right, not with the way Zayn’s got his fingers curled into a tight fist and how he’s clenching his jaw.

“Can I talk to him?” Zayn asks, directing the question to Harry rather than to Louis.

Harry looks at the pair of them, a quirk of the eyebrows showcasing his confusion. He’s not an idiot, he can be quiet oblivious at times but he’s not an idiot. He shares a look with Louis who’s looking back at them with a perplexed expression.

“Alright. Call me if you need anything,” he says to the room in general and walks out of the room.

Zayn closes the door behind him, resting his head against the wood of his door for a moment before spinning around to fix Louis with a glare.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” Zayn demands, the anger pouring out of him in silent waves.

“What are you _on_ about?” Louis asks, frowning back at him.

“Are you serious? Are you pretending not to know or do you not actually remember?” Zayn asks, dragging a chair from the desk to sit in front of Louis. He changes his mind and remains standing, still reeling.

“Remember _what_?” Louis asks, crossing his arms and starting to get a little defensive.

“You _kissed_ Liam last night!” Zayn says, throwing his hands in the air.

Louis is about to respond with ‘I did not!’ then it comes back to him, slumping against the sober Liam on the couch, kissing Liam to try and coax a smile out of his miserable state. He deflates visibly, his retort dying on his tongue before he can get it out.

“Shit, yeah, I did,” Louis says. He looks up at Zayn in confusion, “Why are you so angry? I kiss Harry all the time when he’s upset.”

Zayn looks like he’s about to implode. Louis’ only seem Zayn so upset a couple of times before, he doesn’t like it at all. He’s just used to Zayn being _Zen_ , the mediator between fights. He wants to make this right again but he can’t if he doesn’t know _why_.

“Liam isn’t _Harry_ ,” Zayn grits out, “He’s fucking in love with you!”

Louis can’t do anything but stare at Zayn, stunned, his eyes bulging out of his head. Surely, he was mistaken. Why on earth would Liam be in love with someone like Louis?

“No he’s not,” Louis says immaturely, trying to counteract what Zayn’s saying with sheer denial.

“You can’t keep sending him mixed signals like that – he was fucking distraught over Eleanor and – you can’t go around kissing him if you don’t intend to _keep_ him!” Zayn says and it’s like all the anger dissipates and he looks smaller than he’s ever been before. He stops looking like he wants to punch Louis and more like he’s going to punch himself.

“Look, I had no idea – I haven’t been sending him any – well, yeah, the kiss was kind of – but I didn’t even know he was gay or,” Louis trails off, lost.

Zayn grips him by the shoulders, fingers bruising on his collarbones. “I fucking love you, mate, but you need to _stop_ – stop unless you’re going to do something about it. It’s not fair to him, alright?” he asks, eyes huge and something desperate clawing at his throat.

Louis can only nod. Zayn turns to leave and Louis says, “I didn’t mean to.”

“But you did.”

~

The slow burn of the smoke clears Zayn’s mind lets him sit out in the cold with his fingers cradling the cigarette. He’s sitting on the picnic table at the nearby park, breathing out in frosty puffs and trying to get his head together. He was almost going to punch one of his fucking best mates. He pinches the bridge of his nose and laughs because _why do people do that when it doesn’t do fuck all._

“Something funny?” says that familiar (beloved) voice.

Zayn thinks about ignoring him but ends up turning his head, slow as possible, eyes burning holes when they land on Liam. Zayn shrugs. He knows he’s being unresponsive and cold, it’s his defence mechanism.

Liam climbs onto the picnic table to sit beside him, sitting quiet close even though he hates the smell of second-hand smoke. He bumps their shoulders together to try and get Zayn’s attention.

“Why’d you run out when I was telling you about last night?” Liam asks, tilting his head to stare at the side of Zayn’s face.

Zayn doesn’t shift his attention from its fixed gaze on the swing. He resists the temptation to make eye-contact with Liam and instead focuses on how he can hear the creak of rusty metal in the icy wind. He takes another drag from the cigarette, flicking the ash at the concrete before deciding he should probably say something.

“I had to go do something,” Zayn says simply, holding the cigarette loosely between his index and middle finger.

“I talked to Louis,” Liam says, derailing what Zayn was going to say. “He said you were upset,” Liam continues, knocking their knees together.

Zayn doesn’t respond, pretends he can’t feel the heat radiating off Liam’s body, pinpricks of heat where they’re touching underneath all the layers of cloth.

“Will you look at me?” Liam asks and there’s an undertone of pleading that forces Zayn’s eyes to meet him.

Liam gazes at him for a moment before he leans forward and presses his cold, shaking lips against Zayn’s. He pulls back, eyes huge and nervous and must see something in Zayn’s shocked stony eyes because he places cold fingers against his jaw and kisses him again. Zayn doesn’t hesitate this time around; he makes a noise in his throat, feeling like a man dying of thirst being offered water, and pulls Liam closer. He licks against the seam of his mouth, warm and inviting and lets his fingers skim across the revealed skin of his neck, the sensitive skin beneath his ear. He groans before he pulls away, a frown firmly etched onto his features.

“Li,” Zayn says and the words are wrenched out of him as the hardest thing he’s ever done. “I’m not going to be your stand-in for Louis while you guys sort this shit out.”

He stills for a moment, closing his eyes against Liam’s palm cupping his jaw then with a visible effort, pulls himself back and drops heavily to the ground. He doesn’t look back, walks off into the park, flicking away his cigarette and lighting another one in the space of seconds.

Zayn doesn’t know where he’s going but he sure as hell isn’t going to stay and revel in the misdirected warmth in Liam’s eyes.

~

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Harry says and Zayn would like to refute this statement as he isn’t the one currently _stuck in a window_.

“I wonder how much it would hurt if I pushed you out,” Zayn says, knowing full well he lives in a two-storey house. Zayn flicks Harry between the eyes and watches as he wrinkles his nose helplessly, his hands busy trying to keep him from falling to his death.

Zayn sighs heavily because he has ridiculous friends and _what had he done in his past life to deserve this_? He reaches forward to somehow pull Harry in. This worked when they were seven, it surely wasn’t working now. Harry finally tumbles into his room, arm scratched raw from squeezing through the window sill.

“There’s this thing, I don’t know if you’ve heard of it, but people usually use it to enter someone’s house,” Zayn says, helping Harry up. “It’s called a door.”

“It’s more dramatic this way,” Harry says as if he’s talking to a toddler. “Besides, I didn’t want to wake up your mum.”

Zayn shrugs at that because what can he say? Fuck off Harry for being a considerate asshole?

“Also, you’re a fucking idiot,” Harry says, springing himself onto Zayn’s bed.

“So you’ve said,” Zayn says, “Any particular reason or did you just have an itch to break into my house and insult me?”

“I don’t ever need a reason to break into your house and bring to light how much of an idiot you are,” Harry says simply, green eyes staring at him unnervingly. “What are you doing?”

Zayn looks up, confused, “Closing the window?”

“No, with Liam,” Harry says.

Zayn feels like his brain is going to explode. First of all – how does everybody know about this? Secondly, why does every conversation sound like a repeat of something he’d said earlier this week?

“Nothing,” Zayn says, he sighs, defeated. “That’s the point.”

“Are you blind as well as stupid or.”

“I can still kick you out the window, you know this right?”

“I thought you liked Liam,” Harry says, changing tactics with an uneasy glance at the window.

Zayn doesn’t reply, just the barest shrug of his shoulders.

“I don’t understand why you dicks refuse to be happy,” Harry says, groaning. “He likes you, you like him – I don’t see the problem here.”

Zayn raises a dark eyebrow at him, “He likes Louis. Fuck. This is some fucking teenage love triangle drama shit.” Zayn is only too aware of this.

“For all the credit you give yourself about your intelligence, you’re kind of stupid when it comes to Liam. He doesn’t anymore – maybe Liam trying to get it on with you on a picnic table might have been a precursor to that notion?” Harry says, unimpressed.

“Where’d you get a dictionary?” Zayn says, mostly because he doesn’t want to address the situation at hand. He doesn’t want to admit anything not to Harry and not to himself. How Harry even knows this isn’t much of a mystery.

“You guys could be having crazy sex right now if you’d only get your head out of your arse and stop this ‘O tragic me’ thing you’ve got going on.”

“I’m not doing this on purpose,” Zayn says, anger starting to flare up in his chest. “I’m not going to be Louis’ fucking stand-in, alright?

Harry looks a lot more pleased now that Zayn’s responding properly. “Who said you are going to be a stand-in?” he says and looks at him pointedly.

Zayn doesn’t respond for a while, his hands clenched at his sides, willing his heart not to beat any faster. He’s so far learned not to expect anything from anyone to keep from being disappointed. It’s been a pretty good system so far.

Suddenly tired, Zayn rubs a hand warily across his face and says, “Are you done?” He points to the window.

Harry has the foresight to manage to look sheepish as he sinks down into the bed and says, “Actually, there may or may not be a couple of girls fighting at my house so I thought I’d spend the night here.”

“I hate you.”

~

Zayn wakes up with the all-too familiar feeling of death by curls. He gets poked in the face and Harry says, “Talk to Liam.”

~

It turns out Zayn doesn’t have to go all the way to Liam’s house, three houses down the block, to talk to him because when he wakes up the next time, there is a blatant lack of Harry but Liam’s presence fills the room. Zayn blinks blearily, hazy sleepiness receding into the background quickly at the sight of Liam.

“Hey,” Liam says softly from where he’s perched on the side of the bed. “I swear I wasn’t watching you sleep – you know how I feel about people watching their significant others sleep.”

The initial lightness in Zayn’s chest from seeing Liam eases and he breathes out a laugh.

“Shove up,” Liam says, shrugging his jacket off.

Zayn moves towards the wall, suddenly aware that he’s in nothing but his boxers. Liam doesn’t seem to mind – he never did and he certainly didn’t seem like he was going to start now – and slipped under the duvet with him.

“So we kind of fucked this up, huh?” Liam asks, head pressed against Zayn’s.

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees, more than comfortable to just lay down with his best friend.

They lay like that for a while, breathing together.

“It’s not Louis I like,” Liam says, turning his head to try and muffle his words against Zayn’s neck.

Zayn has to close his eyes and let the shiver pass through his body.

“Thought you’d get that when I kissed you but I guess I underestimated your ability to over think things,” Liam continues, cold finger tips pressed against Zayn’s hips.

Zayn turns his head to look at Liam.

“Don’t you dare ask me if I’m sure,” Liam says, rolling his eyes. Zayn can’t help but smile, sweet and tender at the boy who knows him inside and out.

“I’ve been a right berk, haven’t I?” Zayn says, turning so they’re both lying on their sides, noses barely resting against each other.

“We’ve all been arses,” Liam says generously with a smile, his whole face scrunching up in the way that makes Zayn’s throat dry.

So Zayn slides his hands up from Liam’s belly, up to his chest, palms flat against his heartbeat and flitters over his pulse point to cup his jaw. He kisses Liam slowly, tender, no rush in the way he licks at his bottom lip. Liam’s breath hitches in his throat and he’s kissing him back, smiling into it.

Liam threads their fingers together and presses kisses after kisses against Zayn’s mouth.


End file.
